False Fairytales
by missBENNETT
Summary: Most fairytales didn't end like mine did. I got a massive stomach, a broken heart, and a kick in the ass from my parents. Brendacentric. R


**AN- Okay, peeps. This is the first Hairspay story I've posted, but this is in no way the first I've written. If you like it, let me know, and maybe I'll consider putting the other ones up here. Oh, and by the way, I LOVE Corny Collins. I don't see him the way he is described in the story at all. This is how Brenda is feeling from her point of view, so keep in mind that I don't really think of him that way.**

**Enjoy!!**

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_False Fairytales_

He was a liar, and that was all there was to it. A two-bit, smooth talking charmer who dazzled me more than anyone I'd ever met. I had been foolish and naïve, allowing myself to be consumed by his words and pretty promises, despite the little voice in the back of my head that told me to just walk away. But, being my stubborn self, I didn't listen, and I kept it going. I kept melting into his hands whenever he flashed me that well-practiced grin, and I kept believing that all those sweet word he whispered into my ears were true. I wanted my fairytale, and I thought I was finally getting it.

However, most fairytales don't end like mine did. Usually, the prince and the princess get married and live that clichéd happily ever after. He promised me I could have that…well, in fewer words, at least. But no, I didn't get that. Instead, I got a massive stomach, a broken heart, and a kick in the ass from my parents. The aforementioned charming prince? Probably screwing one my cast mates in his dressing room as we speak. Did I mention that he fired me as well? "Sorry, baby," he said to me, "But there's nothing I can do."

At that moment, I saw my perfect dream fade away. I was angry at him; I was angry at myself. Never before had I felt so small and used, because I had never before allowed myself to care so much for one single man. That wasn't my style. I knew what they all said about me: I was Brenda Bennett, the 'easy' girl with no self-esteem and no self-respect. But the girls who said those things about me had no room to talk. They were the fakest of the fake, going as far as to lying to themselves just to feel right and good. Take, for example, Amber Von Tussle: We were friends, I suppose, as long as I didn't try to upstage her. She'd swoon over her boy toy Link Larkin on stage and in school, but I'd occasionally catch her creeping into a certain someone else's dressing room once the cameras were off. I pretended not to notice, though.

Even my best friend Shelley Simon, who was the most cynical girl you could meet in all of Baltimore, was fooling around with the man I sometimes considered mine. "Brenda, really, it's not that important." She told me one day. "I thought we all knew the score." And we did: Amber, Shelley, and I were his 'special' girls. We'd do what he asked, and we all got satisfaction out of it. It was a win-win situation, and it seemed like nothing could go wrong. Never did any of us expect to end up with child, and of course, it was me. The only one who actually had any remote affection for him whatsoever, and I had to be the one who was abandoned.

When I realized what was happening to me, my brain whirred for hours: What would my parents think? Would everyone desert me? Could I really be a mother at the tender age of seventeen? Just those concerns alone made me want to vomit, despite the fact that morning sickness was beginning to settle in. However, I was quite sure my baby's father was going to be sick himself when I told him. He told me it wasn't possible, that he couldn't be a father yet and that no one could know that he'd slept with me. I was only seventeen after all, as were Shelley and Amber, and if anyone found out, he could be arrested for being with minors. What a scandal that would cause; he'd lose his credibility, his reputation, and his ever-important job. God forbid Baltimore's Golden Boy lose for once. So instead he sacrificed me. He announced that I'd be taking a leave of absence from the show, giving me the most forced smile the world has ever seen and convincing me to say that single line that sealed my fate.

"Just nine months."

The other council kids all looked at me, no shock in their expressions. I knew what they were thinking: It was bound to happen sooner or later. It was ironic that we called ourselves the Nicest Kids in Town, because in reality, that was the last thing we were. But my friends, as phony as they may have been at times, stayed by me. Shelley ceased her flings with him, offering to help me in any way possible. Amber told me she'd be willing to listen if I needed to talk to someone, even though I was fairly sure it was just so that she could get a nice little scoop of gossip. But I smiled and nodded anyways, packing my things and leaving the set of the show.

Then it came time to tell my folks. They were nice, modest people; the kind of people who had old values and whatnot. Like being married before you had children. So I sat in silence at the dinner table, trying to figure out how to tell them. My little sister Beatrice was killing time for me as she rambled on about how she found a frog on the playground and chased it with her friends, and as soon as she was done, I told them. My mother nearly fainted, and my father nearly exploded. He said I disgusted him, that I was a filthy whore who had no place in the Bennett family. Needless to say, Shelley's spare bedroom became my new home right away.

My first night at Shelley's was my first night of real revelations. I learned that fairytales were just that; Real life princesses were bitchy whores and so-called princes were heartless, horny bastards who you couldn't trust as far as you threw them. That was possibly the worst night of my life when Shelley woke me up to tell me I was crying in my sleep.

But then the time came where I was alone in the hospital, sweating and breathing rapidly as doctors and nurses whom I didn't even know encouraged me. But in the end, I smiled. She was the most beautiful baby girl I'd ever seen in my life, with wisps of dark hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. Her name was Clara, and I only got to hold her in my arms for a few moments before the adoptive parents got to whisk her off to New York, for me to never see her again. After the fact, I was crying again. He never even came to see her, or called to see if I was okay.

But that was fine; I didn't want him to anyways.

Fin

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